


Clean & Sober

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gay Sex, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Language, Light Angst, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Stucky - Freeform, more to come - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14837703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: After years of struggling to overcome his seemingly endless list of addictions, Steve Rogers has been clean & sober for one year. In an effort to remain clean, to prove to himself that he can overcome his demons, he takes on the responsibility of becoming a sponsor. It’s wrong for a sponsor to feel a personal attachment to the ones they are sponsoring, but apparently Steve didn’t get that memo.Bucky Barnes’ downfall was cocaine, he couldn’t keep his nose clean if his life depended on it. After overdosing for the third time, a judge ordered him to ‘get clean, or go to jail.’ Narcotics Anonymous wasn’t really Bucky’s thing, that was until he saw the blonde haired, blue eyed God that was going to be his sponsor.Will Steve be able to separate his feelings from the addiction? Can Bucky overcome his primal urges and keep things professional?





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

Steve was standing by the steps, finishing his cigarette before the meeting, greeting the members of Narcotics Anonymous as they entered the building. It was a big night for him; one year clean and sober, three hundred and sixty-five days since he crashed his motorcycle into a hundred year old oak. He had been high on ecstacy, a birthday present from his fling of the week.

He hadn’t remembered much about it, the accident, only that one of the EMT’s had made a comment about Steve being “A lucky son of a bitch.” Despite the fact that his bike was a wrangled mess, Steve suffered a concussion, cuts on his neck that required stitches, a broken wrist, and a dislocated kneecap. The disappointment on his mother’s face had been enough incentive to get help.

Had it been easy? Fuck no. Steve had been addicted to one thing or another ever since he could remember. He smoked weed in high school, but that wasn’t what set him on the treacherous path of addiction. No, that came during his freshman year in college when his achilles tendon ruptured during a football game. The surgeon repaired it easily enough, but the prescribed vicodin took away the pain a little too well. It was all downhill from there.

Noticing the time on his watch, Steve took one last drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out and tossing it into the bin as he walked up the steps. The room was filled with low conversations, friends catching up on what had transpired since the week before, several people complaining about the shitty coffee, and a handful of others taking their seats at the sight of Steve.

Standing at the other end of the room, Steve cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming, everyone.” Several people gave smiles and waved while everyone that had been standing took their seats, apologizing softly.

“I see some new faces with us tonight,” Steve smiled. “Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous. If you’re feeling up to it, share your story with us. We’re here to help.”

One of the new arrivals, a man with chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes, gave a half-smile and leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back of the chair next to him. Swallowing thickly, Steve forced himself to continue.

“For the newest members, my name is Steve, and I’m an addict,” he introduced himself, nodding once when “Hi, Steve,” was said.

He shoved a hand into his pocket and tugged out the shiny coin. “It’s been one year since the accident and, while the path to today,” he flipped the coin in the air, catching it a moment later, “has been rocky, to say the least, the unwavering support I’ve received has been amazing. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Applause and cheers filled the room for a minute, making Steve blush at the attention. Even though he did a great job of hiding it, he hated speaking in front of people. To have the attention solely on him made his stomach churn, made his old habits flare, the need to snort a line of coke or swallow several pills growing, making the back of his neck itch and his hand shake.

“Enough about me,” he chuckled, shoving his shaking hand into his pocket. “Who would like to speak first tonight?”

Sam stood up from his seat and shook Steve’s hand before standing where Steve had been. “Hi, everyone. My name is Sam, and I’m an addict. It’s been six months since I’ve taken a pill.”

Steve went to the back of the room and poured himself a cup of coffee. Leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, he listened carefully as everyone took their turn.

Sam went on to talk about how his mother’s birthday was coming up, and how it was hard for him because of her mental illness. Mrs. Wilson was bipolar, depressed, and wasn’t taking her medication. She lashed out at those around her, calling them vile names, and spewing profanities.

“She wants a big party,” he scoffed, scraping a hand over his face. “Demands that everyone be there. I told her to go to hell.”

“How does that make you feel?” Wanda asked timidly.

“Like I wanna swallow a bottle of oxy,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “But I won’t, I can’t. See, I found out that I’m gonna be a dad.”

Congratulations were said by everyone making Sam smile wide. “Thanks, guys. I uh, I wouldn’t be here to have something to look forward to if I hadn’t found this place.” With a curt nod and a blush coloring his cheeks, Sam took his seat.

Wanda took her turn, softly crying as she talked about her twin brother, Pietro, and how the anniversary of his death was coming up. “Two years,” she murmured, fiddling with one of the many thin-banded rings on her slim fingers. “It’s been two years and I miss him every minute of the day. I swear I can still hear him teasing me about stupid things.”

Clint was out of his seat and wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, and doing his best to calm her down, a hand on the back of her head. “Come on, baby. You’re okay. I got you.” He pulled her from the front of the room and they took a seat in the front row.

“I’d like to go next, if that’s okay.” The brunette that Steve couldn’t take his eyes off stood up and shuffled his feet nervously, his head dipping, his hair falling around his face.

Everyone turned in their seats and welcomed him to the group.

“I uh, I’ve never done this,” he stammered, shifting on his feet. “My name is Bucky, and it’s been one week since I overdosed.”

Steve pushed away from the wall at that. “Hi, Bucky,” he greeted, the rest of the room echoing his sentiment.

Bucky looked at Steve over his shoulder and gave him a warm smile that made his eyes sparkle. Steve could see the bruises around his eyes, his shaking hands, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead that came from withdrawal.

“It wasn’t my first overdose,” he continued after clearing his throat. “I just… I wasn’t in a good place and I took too much. Didn’t realize that the oxy I was popping like candy was laced with ecstasy.”

“Oh no,” Wanda murmured, wiping tears from her face.

Bucky’s voice was thick and sad when he said, “My mom, she uh, she was the one that found me. Said she’d had enough of seeing me throw my life away because of some pills. To prove her point, she brought me to court and a judge ordered that I get clean or go to jail. I chose the lesser of two evils.”

People chuckled under their breath at the jab. “We’re here to help you in any way we can, Bucky.” It was Clint, offering his help, the help of the recovering, the one that had fallen off the wagon, the damaged.

“Thanks, guys,” Bucky murmured, scratching the back of his neck as he sat down, taking another look at Steve.

Steve swallowed heavily before turning away, walking to the front of the room and sitting in the front row. Everyone else took their turn, if they wanted to. Sometimes, not everyone spoke, just being there, surrounded by their friends, buried in the energy of love and support, it was all they needed.

It was two hours later when Steve stood in front of the room. “My sponsor has given me an assignment, of sorts. Now that I’ve been clean for a year, Tony suggested that I become a sponsor. I gave it a lot of thought and I’ve decided, what the hell? I’ll give it a shot.”

After closing the meeting, several people came up to Steve, giving their congratulations and a clap on the shoulder. While the group started to disperse slowly, drinking coffee, eating cookies, conversing quietly, Steve disappeared outside for a cigarette.

“Hi,” Bucky said, taking a long drag.

Steve stopped short, his foot hovering over the bottom step. “Hiya, Bucky. How are you holding up?” he asked, lighting a cigarette as he stood across from the attractive brunette, mirroring his stance.

Bucky shrugged. “I’m alive, so, good, I guess?”

“I get it,” Steve chuckled. “The first week is always the worst.”

“What’s your story?” Bucky inquired, eager to get the topic off of himself.

Steve didn’t try pushing Bucky to talk about anything he didn’t want to, not yet, it was too early in the process for that. So, Steve told Bucky everything about the night of the accident, not sparing any detail, well, the details he could remember.

“Looks like our moms are the ones holding the reins,” Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Steve readjusted his position, switching the way his feet were situated, which was making his previously-dislocated kneecap ache. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Bucky shot back, angrily flicking the ash from his cigarette.

“Rough childhood?” he asked softly.

“Army brat,” was all Bucky would say. “Look, I’m doing this whole sobriety thing for the first time, and I’m going to need a sponsor that isn’t afraid to put me in my spot when I need it. With everything you’ve been through, the pills, the accident, I was wondering if you’d want to take me on.”

Steve sucked in a deep breath of the Brooklyn crisp night air as his mind reeled. Should he really be doing that, taking on someone that made his heart pound, that gave him a ton of wicked ideas? But, Bucky needed help, and Steve had a feeling that he wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t wanted to.

He stubbed out his cigarette and held out his hand for Bucky to shake. “You’ve got yourself a sponsor.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky couldn’t concentrate, not with the way his stomach was rolling, the way his heart was pounding inside his fucking head like a jackhammer. His entire body was covered in sweat, no matter how many cold showers he had taken, his hair greasy no matter how much shampoo he used. He ached, every-fucking-where, like the Navy Seals had ganged up on him and kicked his ass.

God, he hated going through withdrawal, hated everything about it. But, what he hated the most, was the nightmares. They were violent, bloody, and downright scary. He’d had them every night since he was honorably discharged from the army. Medal of Honor recipient to drug addict in less than a month. How had he fallen so far in so little time?

He was sitting in the corner of the shower, the water as hot as it would go, rocking back and forth, praying that his stomach would stop growling. It had been two days since he’d been able to hold anything down, two days since he’d had a drop of water without bending over the toilet and emptying his stomach. Fuck, he wanted some cocaine, pills, oxy, percocet, something!

After climbing out of the shower, Bucky dragged himself into the next room, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. He found Steve’s number quickly, connecting the call with a swipe of his shaking finger.

“He- hello?” Steve mumbled, sleep thick on his voice, a hand dragging over his face.

Bucky was grinding his teeth. “Steve, I… I need you.” Shit, he hated how pathetic he sounded, especially when Steve looked like a goddamn model for Aber-whatever-it’s-called. Asshole probably had a girlfriend or something. He half expected to hear some girl’s voice questioning Steve about the phone call and it made a knot of jealousy in the pit of his stomach added to the nausea in his stomach.

“Bucky? Is everything alright?” He was already out of bed, pulling on his jeans and socks.

Shit, the shivers had started. “No. I… I don’t know. I’m so fuckin’ cold, man.”

“Give me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Steve ordered. With a firm mental shake, he pulled on a pair of dirty socks and the first shirt he touched. Leather jacket in hand and shoes on his feet, Steve grabbed the keys to his motorcycle and the emergency backpack he kept by the door.

Ten minutes later, Steve found Bucky on the floor, shivering, naked, phone still in his grip. “Shit, Buck,” Steve breathed, dropping to his knees next to his charge. A batch of butterflies exploded in his stomach, taking him completely by surprise.

Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist and hoisted him off the floor. The pair of them stumbled across the room, to the bed that was covered in sweat-stained sheets. God, Bucky was heavy, more so than he looked. Steve tried desperately to keep his mind out of the gutter, but it was difficult, what with Bucky’s arm over his shoulders, Steve’s hand clinging to a naked hip.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone in Steve’s life, he was bisexual. He never shied away about his feelings towards men and women, never felt shame, never felt like he had to hide who he was, none of that. But, there, holding Bucky’s body against his, as that naked man’s sponsor, he forced himself to focus on doing his job, on keeping Bucky sober, hell, on keeping him alive.

Once Bucky was in bed, Steve covered his shaking form with several thick blankets and turned off the lamp. Bucky’s teeth were chattering hard enough that Steve feared they would chip. He dropped to the edge of the bed and pushed Bucky’s hair away from his sweaty forehead.

“Shhh, Bucky,” he breathed, hand continuing to stroke Bucky’s hair. “It’s alright. Go to sleep, that’s it.” Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed, his dull blue orbs flicking back and forth erratically. The breath was tearing in and out of him to the point that Steve was worried he would start hyperventilating.

Steve yanked the phone from his pocket and opened the white noise app that made it possible for him to sleep. After selecting the one where it sounds like a cat is purring right inside of your ear, he set it on the nightstand and continued to stroke Bucky’s hair. It took less than five minutes before Bucky fell asleep. He continued to twitch every so often, but his shivering had stopped, which was a good sign.

While Bucky slept, Steve plucked the towels and clothes from the floor, throwing them into a basket. Next, he shrugged out of his jacket and started cleaning the bathroom. There was vomit in the sink, on the mirror, even in the shower, but it didn’t bother Steve. Hell, he remembered cleaning up his own shit and vomit for two whole weeks when he couldn’t score a damn thing. Detox is hell on its own. But to accidentally detox? That shit made detox look like a cakewalk.

With the bathroom clean, Steve wound his way through the small apartment until he found the washer and dryer. They were stacked atop each other, in a closet. He had a load going in less than a minute. The kitchen was tackled next. Dirty dishes were stacked all over the place, food was caked onto the stove top and inside the microwave, takeout containers from various restaurants were scattered around, and the fridge, shit, he had to hold his breath just to clean it out.

Three loads of laundry, four loads of dishes, running the vacuum over the carpet three times, and four hours later, Steve was standing in the doorway, watching Bucky sleep as he smoked a cigarette. Even drenched in sweat and his tanned skin gone grey, Bucky’s beauty was striking. His lashes were long and dark, his cheekbones could probably cut glass, or someone’s inner thigh.

 _Probably his girlfriend,_  he thought with a roll of his eyes.

Of course, someone like Bucky would have a girlfriend, he was too sexy to  _not_  have a woman draped on his arm, a woman that would wrap their lips around his thick cock. He couldn’t deny that he had taken a look. He was only human, after all, a very curious human.

Groaning in frustration, Steve tore his eyes away and forced himself to look outside, and that was how he stayed, staring into the city he loved, smoking until he was hungry. After eating his fill, some cheap chinese place around the corner, he put the leftovers in the fridge and settled into a chair in the corner, his legs propped up, and let his eyes drift closed.


	3. Chapter 3

God, it was stifling. Bucky felt like he was trapped in an oven, wrapped in tinfoil, bathed in grease, and he couldn’t draw in enough oxygen. He kicked off the heavy blankets that were sodden with his sweat, and gave a heavy moan of appreciation when cool air blasted against his skin. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, trying to sort through his jumbled memories of what happened, and what he dreamed had happened. 

The last thing he really remembered was calling… someone. Steve, maybe? After all, he was his acting sponsor. After that, it was a blur, he didn’t even remember getting into bed, let alone covering himself in what felt like a hundred blankets.

Wiping the sweat from his face, he rolled over and pushed up from the bed, groaning when the sheets stuck to his ass. He trudged into the bathroom, brushed his teeth thoroughly since it felt like he licked the bottom of a well-used ashtray. After gargling with mouthwash, he turned on the shower, as hot as he could stand, and stepped under the stream of water.

It was after he had washed his hair, the suds sliding down his naked body, swirling around his feet, that the image of Steve’s perfectly plump pink lips wrapping around his cock burst through his mind. He gasped loudly, his cock twitching against his thigh, begging to be gripped tight, and stroked. Turning around, he hunched his shoulders, slapped a hand against the wall, and tried to get the image out of his head.

Not that he tried very hard, the blood in his veins was surging, lust sparking over every inch of his skin. He couldn’t fight it any longer. Snarling, he wrapped a hand around throbbing cock and let his mind go where it may.

_Steve was on his knees, his hands digging into Bucky’s thighs, Bucky’s cock driving in and out of Steve’s mouth, choking him, cutting off his air supply, and what a fucking sight it was._

_“That’s it,” Bucky ground out. “Take it all.” He buried his hands in Steve’s hair, watching his sponsor’s eyes roll back, drool dripping off his chin, grunts caught in the back of his throat. When Steve swallowed around Bucky’s cock, he could feel the familiar tightening in his gut._

Bucky was furiously fucking his fist, eyes screwed shut, his orgasm ramming into him like a freight train. With Steve’s name bursting out of him, he came hard, pulsing and twitching in his grip, spilling his cum into the drain. He stood there as his cock softened, breath tearing in and out of him, his heart racing, his mind grappling with what had just transpired.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way about Steve, the man was his sponsor, not some guy he met at a bar. Their relationship was supposed to be professional, or some shit like that. It wasn’t until the water ran cold that he turned it off and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying himself off.

He wasn’t sure how long Bucky might sleep, so when Steve came in from smoking, he was quiet, shutting the door gently, keeping his footfalls light as he turned around. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the pitch, but when they did, he found the bed empty, and could hear the shower running.

_That’s a good sign._

Steve moved to strip the bed, but then he heard something, something he knew the sound of all too well; a guttural grunt and the swipe of flesh on flesh. Bucky was jerking off, and it sent a thrill down Steve’s spine.

Before he knew what was happening, he found himself standing to the side of the open bathroom door. The sounds coming from the shower were downright sinful. His cock was throbbing painfully at the mental image of Bucky, his cock down Steve’s throat, choking him.

It didn’t feel right, nor did it feel wrong, listening in, palming his hard cock through his jeans. He was Bucky’s sponsor, he definitely wasn’t supposed to be unbuttoning his jeans to release some of the pressure. But, as soon as he did that, a fat bead of pre-cum oozed out. With his head against the wall, Steve slid his hand into his tight boxer briefs and swept it away, fully intending to remove his hand and go about cleaning up. The addict inside of him should have known better.

Steve hissed at the contact against the sensitive skin, and his cock, Jesus, he was so fucking hard it hurt. His hips surged forward as he gripped himself, giving into his carnal need to touch himself with Bucky’s grunts and groans fueling his darkest fantasy. To keep quiet, Steve gnawed on his bottom lip, the blood pounding in his ears, his cock sliding easily in his grip, and he was just about to cum when he heard Bucky grunt his name.

 _Wait, what?_  Steve stilled, his mind racing, his heart hammering, his chest aching. Had Bucky really said Steve’s name just then? Swallowing greedily at the thick air around him, Steve shook his head and tucked himself away. He was still rock solid and wanted nothing more than to jerk off to the sinful way his name sounded on Bucky’s lips, but a moment later, the water turned off. He darted over to the bed and started stripping the sheets, lifting his head and finding it difficult to keep from openly staring as Bucky stepped out of the bathroom.

“Oh, hey,” Bucky rasped, surprise flashing in his eyes.  _Good thing I didn’t come out stark naked._

Steve’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Bucky, towel slung low around his hips, wet hair framing his face, drops of water on his broad shoulders, cascading down his chest and stomach. He had to swallow several times before he could say anything.

“Hiya, Buck. Good to see you up and around.”

“Sure as hell feels good.” He grabbed a shirt from his dresser and yanked it on before asking, “Have you been here the whole time?”

Standing tall, Steve shifted his hips, hoping to hide the fact that his cock was hard as a rock. “Mostly, yeah. Do you uh, do you remember calling me?”

With his brows close together, Bucky shook his head, sending drops of water to the floor. “I mean, not really.”

“You sounded like hell, man,” Steve admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, trying to keep his eyes from dropping to Bucky’s hips where the towel had loosened slightly. “Came over as fast as I could, got you into bed, and hung around.”

Bucky smirked in a way that made his eyes twinkle. “Did you… clean?”

“I got bored,” Steve answered, hoping the arousal in his voice wasn’t too thick.

Bucky smirked at the sight of Steve blushing, at the way he averted his gaze, the way he shifted on his feet. There was quite the bulge in Steve’s pants that Bucky caught sight of, and goddamn, if it didn’t make his mouth water.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice gritty.

The nickname made Steve smile and sent the blush further up his neck. “Part of my job as your sponsor.”

Ah, there it was, the one damn word that kept Bucky from striding over to Steve, pushing him against the wall, and kissing him. Whether Steve was straight, gay, or bisexual, Bucky had no idea, but at that point, he didn’t really fucking care.

“You uh, want to hang for a bit?” Bucky asked, stepping around the edge of the bed, the distance between the two men growing smaller, filling the air with pheromones. “I can order some pizza, show you my gratitude for all you did.”

Steve almost let out a groan at Bucky’s proposal. Now that he knew Bucky thought about him while he jerked off, he wanted to say yes, to know just how appreciative Bucky was. But, there was somehow a part of his brain that wasn’t drowning in the way Bucky’s eyes raked over Steve, in how gravelly Bucky’s voice was, in the way Steve could see Bucky’s cock bulging against the towel, and it quickly decided that Steve needed to leave

“I can’t, Bucky. I have to go,” he lied expertly, darting across the room to grab his phone and jacket. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow, right?”

_Fuck, he’s cute when he’s flustered._

“I’ll be there,” Bucky promised, giving Steve a playful smile as his sponsor ducked out.

Steve couldn’t get back to his shitty apartment soon enough. It didn’t take him long, twenty minutes, but every minute drug by, reminding Steve that his cock was pulsing, that he couldn’t undo his jeans in the back of the cab.

He tried thinking about baseball, football, even tried singing his favorite song, but nothing worked. God, he was so hard it fucking  _hurt_. He needed to get home, and fast. Otherwise, he was going to start jerking off. The only thing that took the edge off  _just enough_ was the fact that  _if_  he did do that, he’d get arrested. Again. And, he most definitely did not want to add  _committing a lewd act_  to his already mile-long arrest record.

By the time the cab dropped him off, he felt as if he were going to explode. He threw some bills at the driver and bolted inside, took the steps three at a time and dropped his keys twice before he was finally inside. With his back against the door he just slammed, he ripped open the front of his jeans with a snarl. Spitting into his hand with one hand, Steve yanked the top of his boxer briefs down, gripped his cock, and closed his eyes.

_It was Bucky’s turn to be on his knees, mouth open wide, tongue splayed between his full lips, a desperate and carnal need shining in his eyes. Steve had a hand in Bucky’s hair when he shoved his cock between Bucky’s lips._

_The man on his knees fucking growled at the contact. Hallowing his cheeks, he scraped his teeth along Steve’s shaft with every bob of his head, swirling his tongue hypnotically around the head, flicking it into the slit._

_Steve’s hips snapped forward as he fucked Bucky’s mouth, the wet choking sounds, the bite of Bucky’s fingers in his ass and thighs, the fact that he had no gag reflex; all of it made Steve’s balls draw up tight._

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve grunted, low and heavy. He had never reached orgasm so fast before, not even when he was young and fucking high as a goddamn kite. He choked on Bucky’s name as he came, his hips stuttering, his cock swelling and pulsing.

He slammed his head into the door as he gasped for air, his cock growing soft, his cum on his hands and the front of his jeans. Something about Bucky got his blood surging like no one before, and he never wanted the feeling to go away.

Shit, he was fucking screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

Going into the next meeting, Steve was a bundle of nerves. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Bucky, and it was becoming problematic. He could hardly concentrate at work, on the football game, on simple conversations; Steve wanted Bucky  _all_  of the time. He wanted to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, to straddle his thick thighs, to feel Bucky’s cock pulse -

“Hey, man,” Clint called out, brows furrowed. “You alright?”

Clearing his throat, Steve adjusted the way he was standing. “Yeah, brother,” he lied. “All good.”

Clint didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push the matter. Not yet, at least. Between the pair of them, Clint had been sober the longest, and he knew when his friend had started a new addiction. He knew the signs all too well, and Steve looked strung the hell out, but Clint knew that if he stepped in too soon, he could push Steve further.

Steve ran a hand through his hair before announcing the start of the meeting. “Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous,” he droned on, doing his best to keep his eyes from meeting Bucky’s. He stammered his way through how his week had gone, completely omitting the part where he wanted to fuck Bucky’s brains out, that he had made himself cum until he almost blacked out. By the time he stepped down, a cold sweat had broken out over the back of his neck and forehead.

Wanda was the first to take a stand behind the microphone, but Steve wasn’t listening, he couldn’t hear a thing, not over the roar of his own heart.

With his back pressed to the wall, Steve sucked down several glasses of water in a futile attempt to rid his mouth and throat of the cotton-like texture and taste that had been there the past forty-eight hours. Steve was grinding his teeth, shifting from one foot to the other, trying to keep from looking at Bucky, but with each second that passed, Steve had a harder time resisting the urge.

When his neck started aching, the muscles protesting loudly at being kept still for too long, Steve groaned heavily and gave the tight muscles a squeeze. He felt people’s eyes on him, their curiosity piqued, their worry heavy on their brows, but Steve managed to ignore them, barely. It wasn’t until he heard Bucky’s voice that Steve’s eyes flew open.

“I don’t remember all of it, but this week was a tough one,” he started, tucking some hair behind his ear. “The withdrawal was really bad this time, and I know that if I hadn’t snagged someone to be my sponsor, I wouldn’t be here. Steve came to my apartment and stayed there until I was able to crawl out of bed on my own two feet. Hell, he even cleaned up the joint.”

Chuckles worked their way through the room, but the only one that Steve could focus on was Bucky. The man was chewing on his bottom lip and started blushing, and fuck, did it send a surge of lust through Steve.

“I just wanted to get up here and say thanks, man,” Bucky murmured, ducking his head, smirking playfully.

Steve watched Bucky like a hawk as he strolled through the room, a cocky swagger on his hips, thumbs hooked into the loops on his jeans. It wasn’t until the man sat down that Steve pulled in a breath, deep and ragged.

“Alright,” he announced loudly from the back of the room, still leaning against the wall. “Thanks for sharing your hardships and successes tonight. We’ve all got a long road ahead of us, but if we stick together, we’ll uh… we’ll make it uh… to uh….”

Bucky had turned around and was looking at him, his dark eyes boring a hole through Steve, making it hard to focus on the words he was supposed to be saying.

“We’ll make it through,” Clint announced loudly, a fake smile on his lips. “God be with you.” After that, the room started to fill with friendly chatter.

Steve couldn’t stay there, in the same room as Bucky, for much longer. His jeans were too tight, his blood was pumping too fast, and his heart was fluttering painfully against his chest. Jesus… it was like being high all over again. Before he could tuck tail and run, Clint was in front of him.

“Hey,” he asked gently. “You don’t look so hot. Is there something I should know?”

“What do you… are you talking about?” Steve stammered, the knot in his throat becoming bigger.

Bucky was at the table, pouring himself a cup of shitty coffee, fifteen feet from the men. Steve could smell the spicy cologne that streaked down Bucky’s neck, the pack of Marlboro Reds tucked inside the leather jacket, the peppermint gum he had been chewing from the moment he walked in the door… he smelled good enough to fuck.

“Are you using again, man?“ The question took Steve by surprise.

His eyes went wide and he took a step back. “Wow,” he breathed. “You may as well have asked me to piss in a fuckin’ cup, man.”

“I didn’t say -”

“You didn’t fuckin’ have to,” Steve snarled angrily.

Clint arched a brow as he looked up at his friend. “Hold on one good goddamn minute, Steve. You’re my friend and I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” Steve stepped around Clint, their shoulders smashing together in a way that made Clint wince.

Steve stormed out of the building, down the stairs, around the block, and disappeared down a dark alley. Every inch of him was thrumming; anger, lust, frustration, desire, resentment, all of it was getting to be too much. He wanted to punch something and fuck someone, preferably at the same time.

“Hey, man,” someone called out from the mouth of the alley.

There was no pretending he didn’t know the voice. “Heya, Buck,” Steve said, tugging out a cigarette and lighter to keep from punching the brick wall.

Bucky strode through the shadows, his eyes never leaving Steve’s. “Got a little intense back there. You all good?”

Steve’s hand was shaking too bad, he couldn’t get his lighter to catch. “I will be,” he ground out through his teeth.

“Here, lemme help,” Bucky purred. He covered Steve’s hand with his own as he worked his thumb over the ignitor.

Steve watched as the flame ate at the end of his cigarette before pulling in a deep breath. His eyes flicked up to Bucky’s and it made the smoke catch in his throat. “Thanks,” he rasped.

“So,” Bucky pushed. “Do I need to be worried?”

“Worried?” Steve choked, his eyes wide. “Worried about what?”

Bucky chuckled as he reached for the cigarette between Steve’s fingers. “You’re my sponsor. If you’re off the wagon…” his voice tapered off as he pulled in a lazy drag.

“No,” Steve argued. “No, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not in danger of falling off the wagon.”

_Screwing your brains out, maybe._

After pulling in another drag, Bucky handed Steve the cigarette. “If you say so, Steve.” His voice was thick and low, sounding very much like the other day when he was jerking off in the shower.

_Fuck._

The last of Steve’s resolve dissolved like sand in the water. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and stepped into Bucky’s airspace, two sets of stormy eyes searching the other, tongues darting out to dampen a bottom lip. With each step Bucky took back, Steve took a bigger one, and by the time Bucky’s back was against the wall, their chests were pressed together and their mouths were a whisper apart.

“What the…” Bucky rasped.

Neither of them moved for a minute, they just stood there, their hearts hammering, their breath mingling, their chests heaving.

“Tell me to stop,” Steve implored, nose brushing against Bucky’s, using a finger to tuck a lock of chestnut hair behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky was shaking his head, pushing his cheek into Steve’s palm. “I won’t.”

“I’m your sponsor,” he argued weakly.

“I don’t care.” Bucky’s hands were on Steve’s waist, fingers squeezing.

_Double fuck._

Sucking in a ragged breath, Steve crashed his lips into Bucky’s, kissing the man feverishly. The sounds that Bucky was making in the back of his throat when their tongues tangled were dark and sinful, sending electric pulses of arousal along Steve’s spine. With Bucky’s hands on Steve’s ass, Steve’s hips rocked into Bucky’s, trapping him against the wall. Steve’s hands itched to rip the clothes from Bucky’s body, to feel the heavy weight of his pulsing cock, and judging by the way Bucky was fumbling with Steve’s jeans, he knew Bucky felt the same way.

Bucky’s fingers had just crept into the waistband of Steve’s boxer briefs when there was a squealing sound at the mouth of the alley. Steve all but jumped back, sucking the cool air into his oxygen-deprived lungs. Once he realized what the sound was - a homeless person pushing a dilapidated shopping cart - he looked at Bucky and felt his heart sink.

“I uh… I should go,” Steve blurted out, regretting the words the moment they were out. He quickly adjusted his clothing and strode away.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve hunkered down in his apartment for the next week. He called in sick to work, even went so far as to skip the weekly meeting. He should have felt bad about it, but he didn’t, not with his hand around his leaking dick. In his mind’s eye, Bucky was the one that was stroking him, swallowing around him, gagging, tears streaming down his face, begging for more.

He shouldn’t get rock-hard just at the notion of seeing Bucky again, or hearing his gravelly voice, let alone if Bucky were to say his name. Christ, he would lose it right then. Although, would it really be so bad?

Bucky had been calling Steve, leaving a string of text messages, asking if Steve was okay, if Bucky had done something to upset him. Steve should have answered straight away, he was being a shitty sponsor by not doing so. Only problem was, he couldn’t bring himself to have a quasi-normal conversation with the chestnut-haired man.

Then there were the phone calls from Clint.

“Something’s going on, man,” Clint insisted. “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

“I’m fine, brother,” Steve gasped, the breath tearing in and out of him from yet another round of masturbating.

“Uh huh. Why are you out of breath?” he demanded to know.

“Just got in from running.” The words were out of him before he could even think of what to say.

Clint scoffed loudly. “You know I don’t believe a goddamn word you’re saying right now.”

“You really think I care?” Steve groaned, disconnecting the call.

That was three days ago, and Steve still hadn’t left the apartment. Well, that’s not entirely true. He left to get smokes and more laundry detergent. He had both of the small machines going shortly after returning. Two minutes later, someone was knocking on his door.

“Go away, Clint,” he snarled, a cigarette notched between his lips, his eyes rolling back.

“Steve?”

That was most definitely not Clint’s voice. Clint’s rasp never made Steve shudder in anticipation. No, this was a much deeper voice that Steve knew all too well. Steve’s heart was in his throat as he approached the door, his hand shaking as he reached for the door chain lock. Another round of knocks made him jump back.

“Just a sec,” he ground out. Steve ran his hands through his hair and risked a glance in the mirror. Shit, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Whatever, it was what it was.

Bucky was on the other side of the door, his eyes full of worry. His hair was pulled back, the strands damp from the rain. “Jesus, ‘bout time you let me know you ain’t dead,” he huffed as he pushed his way into the apartment, seemingly on high alert, his eyes scanning Steve’s dark apartment.

Steve pulled in a deep breath that was full of Bucky, and fuck, it made his mouth water.

“I ain’t using,” he said for the hundredth time. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“I know what usin’ looks like,” Bucky said, turning to face his sponsor, eyes dark, jaw tense. “And you don’t look clean. What are you on?”

Steve raked a hand through his tousled hair and shook his head. “Nothin’, man. I swear.”

Bucky stepped into Steve’s airspace and glared at him. “Do I need to find a new sponsor?”

“Please don’t,” he murmured, the words falling from his mouth before he could even think of stopping them. Steve sucked in a shuddering breath, hoping that words would come with the rush of air, but they didn’t; they hung there like dust particles, shimmering in the rays of light, swirling about as you pushed your hand through them.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Bucky wasn’t asking because he was accusing Steve of anything, not really.

The truth was, Bucky was tired of hiding his feelings for Steve. Sure, they had practically just met, but Steve was intoxicating to be around. He was funny and smart, he didn’t take himself too seriously, there was no giant ego, and good goddamn, he was built like a shit brickhouse. Bucky wanted to get his hands on the man and explore every inch of his body.

When Steve didn’t say anything, Bucky stepped into his personal space, the air between them thickening. “Tell me, Steve,” he implored, his fingers twitching as he struggled to  _not_  reach for Steve.

Staring into Bucky’s azure eyes and decided at that very moment that he could no longer give into his fantasy, Steve gripped the back of Bucky’s neck and kissed him, hard, urgently, as if his very life depended on it. Fearing he had read the minute signs from Bucky all wrong, Steve wasn’t expecting Bucky to return the kiss. So, when he did, Steve let go of the moan in the back of his throat.

Bucky pushed himself into the kiss, grabbing onto Steve’s narrow waist, tugging him close. Shoes and clothes were discarded as Steve directed Bucky toward the couch, his desperation to taste Bucky was becoming too much, threatening to consume him from the inside out. Before he could blink, he was on his knees, between Bucky’s thighs, sucking Bucky deep into the back of his throat, the bittersweet pre-cum tasting like heaven on his tongue.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky praised, his voice gritty, his hand in Steve’s hair.

The blood in Steve’s veins surged at the words, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He was all-too-happy to oblige to Bucky’s hand on the back of his head, urging him down further until his nose was buried in Bucky’s chestnut curls.

“Yesssss,” groaned Bucky, his head falling back as Steve’s throat constricted tighter than before.

Bucky had gotten head many times, but nobody really knew what they were doing, and then he met Steve. The talent that lay in Steve’s lips and tongue was unparalleled to anything Bucky’s experienced. It was as if Steve was psychic and knew exactly what Bucky liked.

He spread his legs and pistoned his hips, thoroughly fucking Steve’s mouth, encouraged by the way Steve was furiously pumping his own cock. Bucky hadn’t wanted to cum in Steve’s mouth the first time they fucked, but he couldn’t stop himself. With a low and heavy grunt of Steve’s name, his cock pulsed as he jammed it down Steve’s throat one more time, holding him there until Steve had swallowed every last drop.

With a weary grin, Steve sat back, gasping for air, his thick cock weeping, a blush coloring his skin under the intensity of Bucky’s gaze.

“Look at you,” Bucky purred, sliding off the couch and onto Steve’s thighs. “You’re ready to burst, aren’t you?”

Steve couldn’t bite back the obscene moan as Bucky’s hand took the place of his. “Fuck yes.”

Bucky gripped the back of Steve’s neck, his hand working over Steve’s cock, smearing the fat beads of pre-cum, his lips brushing against Steve’s. “Come on, baby,” he urged, rocking their bodies together. “Show me what you got.”

As their bodies moved together, Steve gripped Bucky’s ass as they kissed, as Bucky’s hand glided along, pushing Steve closer to his release. Steve ripped his mouth away to watch himself get fucked. The breath was tearing in and out of him, mingling intoxicatingly well with Bucky’s.

“Shitshitshit,” Steve panted, his shoulders shuddering, thighs flexing.

If it was possible, Bucky stroked him faster, rocking their bodies harder. “Cum for me, Stevie.”

Steve’s head fell back as he came, bursts of light blinding him, the air in his lungs held hostage, every muscle going taut. Bucky dipped his head down and sucked a dark mark onto Steve’s pulse point, nipping at it in a way that made Steve’s hips jerk and his nails dig into Bucky’s ass.

The two men rolled to the floor, tangled together, and all Steve could think was,  _Jesus, what a fucking rush._


End file.
